Valiant

Chapter 58: The Siege of Castellan

The messenger arrives at midday, wearing traditional Ocean Province garb and a disgusted look upon his face. A cloth sack weighs down upon his shoulder, and the dirty, white flag he bears is grasped between his gauntleted fingers. His steel halfhelm glows softly in the midday light as he strides to the closed portcullis.

"The One True King of Malachon demands the life of the one called Raphael of the Mountains. Other than that, he requires you lay down your weapons and pay him due homage," he shouts up the wall, inviting no reply. "If you do, he may spare your worthless lives and let you live out your days beneath his benevolent rule."

"Bravo, good sir!" Lord Richard Hodgeson shouts from beside me, leaning against his ladder pike and grinning mischievously at me. "What a convincing argument he makes, eh?"

"Quite," I chime in, fingers working at the belt on my hips. "I'm won over. What say you, gentlemen?" I shout behind me towards a couple of sentry archers, who grin and nod at me encouragingly.

"Aye? Then give this homage to your king!" I reply, releasing a long, yellow stream of urine over the wall to the bawdy cheering of the men of Castellan.

The messenger's face darkens as he takes something out of the bag. "My master knows that you have sent for help. He sees that you are weak, despite your arrogance. You have sent to the East Kingdoms for help." he hisses, bringing something dark and hairy to our eyes. After a second, my stomach plummets as I make out the head of Lady Jade. "Although, I can't imagine that they would be too willing to help a country who kills their emissaries.

"My master has seen that you've killed Lord Arwick. Even now, his men flock to ours seeking revenge on his most foul and unnatural murder! The Principalities will offer you no support, for they rightly fear our wrath. Surrender, I implore you! You stand alone against the righteous King of the Realm, David the Lion!"

"Piss off already!" Another man beside me roars, grinning crazily through his half helm. "We're all here. We're all getting what we bargained for. You want these walls? Pry them from our cold, dead hands!"

"With pleasure," grins the messenger, turning to walk away to where he left his horse. Suddenly, an archer draws back his bow to his cheek, keen eyes trained upon the figure.

"General Titus," he begs, fury roiling off his body in waves. "Give the order."

"Very well," nods the general, his face a mask of cold. I turn in surprise, but the arrow has already flown through the air, and I swivel in time to watch the messenger fall, back leaking dark red. He has no time to scream, only to twitch and flop upon the grass like some possessed puppet.

"What was that about?" I ask, turning to the general, whose implacable face has not changed. He knows as well as I the rules of warfare. Messengers are off limits.

"He was a deserter from our own ranks, Dawn Warden," he replies softly, turning to face me. "There was a blood debt to be paid."

I nod, still unsure of the legality of the kill, but willing to accept the judgement of the Knight General. 'Tis a bad omen at the very least.

As I turn again towards the forests of Baelik, something again catches my eye. A glimmer of movement beyond the trees seeks my attention. Then, a man emerges. Then two, then four. Armored men march from the forest, stirring a cloud of birds into flight above the distant trees. An army pours from the bowels of the forest, impossibly vast and armed to the teeth.

Ocean banners wave to and fro as the mass of men converge, marching to just beyond arrow shot of the castle walls. As these men pool, so small in appearance that my thumb blots swathes of their number from view, an almost ethereal sense of calm spreads across my body. I cannot explain why, but as I grip the sword from my back, I am utterly at peace.